


Backwards Clock

by The_Depressed_Huffle_Puffle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Depressed Lance, Langst, Other, Raped Lance, Self Harm Lance, Suicidal Lance, abused lance, de-age, triggering content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Depressed_Huffle_Puffle/pseuds/The_Depressed_Huffle_Puffle
Summary: “It makes the drinker become younger until they cease to exist…therefore they stay youthful forever.”“Can you tell us how to reverse it so we can get Lance back to normal?”“There isn’t.”“Pardon me?”“There isn’t a cure.”





	1. Backwards Clock Pt.1

**Author's Note:**

> Important A/N
> 
> This is an extremely triggering series. Following chapters will have these triggers:
> 
> Child abuse
> 
> abuse
> 
> harsh words/language
> 
> alcohol induced rage
> 
> Alcohol/drug abuse
> 
> implied rape
> 
> child molestation
> 
> sexual harassment
> 
> self harm
> 
> suicidal themes
> 
> attempted suicide
> 
> descriptions of violence
> 
> Side A/N
> 
> This was supposed to be a one-shot but it’s getting too long so I’m breaking it down.
> 
> This is for the person who asked for the De-Age fic and a maximum langst fic. 
> 
> Please read the trigger warnings. If you are affected please do not read this series. Your health is more important to me than reads, notes, or any other forms of acknowledgment. 
> 
> A/N

“And that, my friends, is what I call a job well done,” Lance joked while landing Blue and placing his helmet to the side. 

“Yeah, but uh, Lance, you have a few fans outside,” Shiro joked. 

“What do you- Woah,” Lance voiced. When he stepped out of the lion he was expecting everyone around the Black Lion examining them and trying to see the face behind its metal. 

Instead, the King of the Mooi and his people were standing in front of Blue, staring up at Lance with wide eyes and glowing skin.. literally. They surround him, cheering and laughing.

Lance was mildly uncomfortable with the attention. Don’t get him wrong, he loved attention, being able to tell stories and speaking out, but those times he had control of the situation. This was completely different.

The Mooians petted Lance causing the later to curl back a little before allowing the others to hold his hand and inspect him.

He glared at Keith and Pidge who were holding on to each other trying not to fall over in laughter.

Hunk was panicking not knowing what to do and Shiro was talking with Allura.

“Apparently,” Shiro started to explain, “they liked how you flew, all flashy and stuff, and they realized you piloted the lion.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Lance called out. He shuddered in discomfort as one of the Mooians rubbed their face on his upper arm, though it didn’t last as one ran a finger softly across his stomach causing him to laugh. 

“The people of Mooi are strangely obsessed with beauty and glamor,” Allura explained, “As the ‘most handsome’,” Allura quoted Lance,” they were naturally drawn to you.” 

Lance smiled, “Well, of course, they did,” He joked. “Thank you, but this really isn’t necessary,” Lance tried to explain. He stepped away from the citizens.

They cleared away revealing the queen in her purple and gold robes. She carefully made her way through the crowd, nodding to certain people and acknowledging others. She made it to Lance and bowed. 

Lance stepped back in shock while the citizen’s followed in the queen’s pursuit. 

She stood up straight once more, “Someone such as yourself must stay young forever. Your beauty must be preserved.”

“Uh,” Lance froze. He wasn’t prepared for this, “Thank you, your highness, but I couldn’t accept something as valuable as this.”

The queen shook her head and pushed the drink into his hands. She stepped away and nodded her head expectingly. 

Lance gulped when the citizens started to lean forward. He looked down at the liquid. 

The purple liquid was far too dark for his liking and when he stirred it a bit in the glass it didn’t move. No light reflected off the surface and it smelt like gasoline. Beside him, Allura scoffed and nudged him. Lance took in a breath and downed the drink. He ignored the bitter taste and the stinging sensation it left. 

People around him cheered and ushered him to the plaza where a celebration would take place.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Hunk!” Someone screamed in the castle. Keith jumped out of his bed, grabbed his dagger and ran towards the noise. The echo messed up his sense of hearing, making it harder for him to tell where it was coming from but small shuffling noises in Lance’s room told him everything. 

Hunk came tumbling out of his room at lightning speed. He tripped before knocking on the door, “Lance?” The noises stopped. “Lance? Buddy? It’s me, Hunk! Open up!”

“H-Hunk?” Lance called from inside. The door slid open.

What the two expected was their normal lanky legged friend with a goofy smile and bright blue eyes.

Instead, a kid in their mid teens stood awkwardly staring at the floor. He looked up to Keith, taking a step back and then to Hunk.

“Hunk?” 

“Lance?” Hunk stepped towards Lance, “What the heck happened?”

“Where am I? Who is he? Where’s Hunk?” Lance started blurting out questions, “Why do you look like Hunk? Why is everything in this room blue? Why-”

“Lance. Lance!” Hunk interrupted the younger male. “What happened to you?” Hunk questioned, “You look 15!”

“Well, that would be because I am 15!”Lance screamed. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Where am I? Who are you?”

Keith coughed, snapping himself out of shock, “You’re in the castle. Do you really not-“

“What the hell?” 

All three of the boys turned to the door where the youngest paladin stood.

“Lance?” they shouted. 

“Pardon?”

Pidge and Lance screamed at each other; Pidge for shock and Lance for frustration. Keith tried multiple times to get them to be quiet, only to have Shiro come in and pull Pidge and Lance apart and bringing them into the bridge. 

Allura was notified and Coran and her tried to contact the people of Mooi to get an explanation.

“So,” Lance tried to grasp everything he was just told, “I’m in a huge alien castle-ship.” Everyone nodded, “I’m supposed to be 17? I pilot some huge blue lion ship that I’ve bonded to, and I’m always happy and jokey?” Lance looked down, “Go me.”

“We found it,” Allura shouted, “Umioreo. Pidge, can you look it up on the pad?”

Pidge ran to her seat and pulled up a tab, “Erm…here! Umioreo was known as the Liquid of Gods. Blah blah… it is made from the Umi fruit found only on the planet Mooi. Mooians give it people who look like Gods to stay young for eternity and to preserve beautiful youth. It…” Pidge stopped for a moment. She took a shaky breath and continued to read, “It makes the drinker become younger until they cease to exist…therefore they stay youthful forever.”

Shiro stood up, causing Lance to shrink into his seat. “Can you tell us how to reverse it so we can get Lance back to normal?”

Pidge looked away, “There isn’t.”

“Pardon me?”

Pidge looked up from her screen, “There isn’t a cure.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triggering content ahead.   
> Please do not read if you are triggered by rape   
> Child Abuse  
> And/or Panic attacks

Lance was shaken. He didn’t know these people. He wanted to be back at the garrison, studying with Hunk, sneaking food and calling his family. Not here in the castle with strangers. A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts and jumped.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you,” the oldest said. Shiro smiled down at him making Lance feel a bit better.

Lance turned, “Do I have my medicine?”

They all turned to the blue paladin.

“What?”

“You don’t have medicine.”

“You don’t need it.”

“No, you left it in our dorm.”

Everyone looked at Hunk.

“How did I stay alive this long?” Lance questioned the elder. He was clearly impressed with his older self.

Hunk laughed, “I don’t know but I’m glad you did.”

Keith butted in, “This is very heartwarming and all, but what medicine?”

“I don’t tell you?” Lance was shocked, to say the least. Was he able to hide it so well that they couldn’t see? “My antidepressants?”

Shiro paused half way through moving, Keith coughed in surprise, and Pidge practically fell out of their chair.

“Your what?” Allura leaned forward. She didn’t know what they were and it was a first of hearing of such thing.

“Antidepressants. It’s supposed to help me with depression and balance chemicals in my brain..and stuff,” Lance tried to explain. He knew the way he put it wasn’t the best but it was the truth.

Pidge was the first to recover, “ANTIDEPRESSANTS?”

Lance flinched, his eyes studying the floor in an attempt to hide away.

“Since how long?” Shiro said in a much calmer tone.

Lance’s voice was quiet, “Since I was twelve.”

Hunk’s gaze hardened, causing the others to shift uncomfortably.

“Why?” Keith spoke for the others. He lifted a hand and gently put it on Lance’s shoulder.

Lance tried to speak but failed. He looked to Hunk desperate for help. Hunk looked away. The fifteen-year-old sighed. He took in a breath, preparing himself, “I tried to kill myself.”

The silence in the room made Lance want to disappear. It was awkward and uncomfortable.

“But it’s okay because it won’t happen again,” Lance tried to cheer everyone up. That all he ever did, sacrifice himself for other’s happiness. 

“Why?” Keith asked in a soft tone. His eyes were soft and teary.

Lance smiled, “No reason-”

“No reason?” Hunk whispered, “I was the one that found you on the floor!” 

Lance looked away in guilt, “I didn’t ask you come help me. I’m sure my dad would have been happier than he was when I got back from rehab.”

“I hate your dad.”

“I do too.”

“Are we missing something?” Pidge interrupted Hunk and Lance’s silent conversation.

“No,” both replied sharply. 

Lance knew that they would find out. How they hadn’t already was a miracle. He should just come out with it, out with everything that he hadn’t shared with anyone except Hunk.

Lance thought back to all the times where he had spent the night at the Garretts after a long night. All the times when Hunk would hold help Lance sneak out of his house after his dad came home.

When he’d been caught once.

~Trigger warning- Abuse, harsh words, implied rape ~

“Hurry, Lance! Before he sees you!” 

Lance threw his foot over the window sill in a straddle. A black Jansport backpack was slung over his should, packed with garments and toiletries.

“I’m coming!” Lance shouted down to the other 14-year-old. His latched his arm across the water pipe he was going to attempt to shimmy down. He clasped his arm on one pipe and leaped to reach the other, but he was pulled back.

Lance clawed at the hand wrapped around the collar of his shirt, screaming at the attacker to let go and for Hunk to help him. The strong grip threw him into the room. Lance heard the window behind thrown down and the lock snap.

Lance watched with defeat as the person who restricted him sat down.

“I thought you learned your lesson two years ago, Lance,” his father sneered at the younger, from his place on the floor. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance tried to speak out, only to be drowned out by a much larger voice.

“And you’re trying to sneak out on me? With this much disrespect? “

Lance quivered, his voice unsteady he spoke out, “I’m sorry, dad.”

“I feed you, dress you, protect you!” Lance’s dad scoffed, “ I even buy that stupid medication that you don’t even need-”

“That’s the thing, Dad!” Lance threw his hands up into the air. He leaned forward to add exaggeration. “I do need it! It balances out the-”

“-chemicals in your brain blah blah! I know!” His dad rolled his eyes from one side of the room to the other, “I heard it from the doctor.”

“Then why can’t you understand it?” Lance stressed, he was tired of the mistreatment his father gives him.”

“Don’t talk to me like that boy,” the older warned in a dangerously low tone. Lance ignored it and continued.”

“You’ve done nothing but made it worse!” Lance screamed, he could hear Hunk’s nervous calls up to the window and shuffling of bags and bikes. 

“Shut up.”

Before Lance could even stop himself, he shouted in a volume he had never been able to reach before, “I wish you weren’t my dad!”

“You shut your mouth,” digging his nails in, Lance’s father gripped the younger’s arm. He pulled him up and kneed the teen in the stomach. 

Lance groaned in pain, his head hurt and the ache in his arm was terrible. 

“You’re useless,” Lance’s father placed a hand under his chin, “You’re lucky you got your mothers looks. Lance felt a hand going under his shirt, caressing his back.

Lance gasped, never, in his life, had his father gone this far. Lance’s gaze hardened. He gathered up as much saliva as he could and spit on the older’s face.

“I’ll give you something to be depressed over,” Lance’s father sneers at Lance. He pushed him up against the wall, pinning the teen’s neck against the wallpaper. Lance fought when he felt calloused hands grip at his jeans. He sobbed when the hand went further.

Lance screamed for Hunk, who was having his own trouble outside, to help him. Hunk couldn’t breath, thoughts rushed through his head. He felt useless, hearing his friend’s father beat him. It wasn’t a first for a punch to be thrown in front of Hunk. But this…this was a first.

Hunk knew Lance wouldn’t be the same after this.


	3. Backwards Clock Pt.3

“Hunk,” Lance’s voice trembled, “What’s happening?”

A fifteen-year-old Lance was bad enough.

Twelve was worse.

The boy was quiet and every word he spoke was a barely audible whisper. He sat away from everyone to avoid contact and the constant flinching. His eyes widened at the slightest possibility of physical contact. However, one good thing did come from this de-aging.

He had his memories back.

“I don’t know, bud...” Hunk spoke out trying to inch closer to the other only for the Cuban to cave into himself, “I don’t know.” He sat up, frowning when Lance shivered. He made his way back to the other paladins who stood watching the younger. 

Shiro stepped aside allowing Hunk to join the team, “I thought he had his memories back. Why is he so afraid of us?”

“Well,” Hunk started, his hands pulled at each other, “the memories he had with us are more distant, I suppose. I mean, it’s just a theory but if it is...” Hunk trailed off. It took two years for Lance to calm down after everything that happened.

Corran was at a loss for words, the boy he came to know as his son was in pain just in front of him and he had no way to help him, “Hunk,” he swallowed, preparing to ask the question everyone wanted to know but never dared to ask, “what happened?” 

* * *

 

“H-hunk?” 

“Lance?” Hunk shot up from his bed, the broken voice in the phone that alarmed him sobbed, “Lance, what’s wrong?”

The boy on the other side stammered, the sounds barely above a whisper, “My mom.”

Untangling himself from the sheets, he threw himself off the bed, “What about her?” He grabbed his coat and sneakers and practically skidded down the steps of his stairs. He nodded to his moms who sat in the living from, both asking where he was off to. He pointed to a picture on the wall of the McClain’s and his family. 

“She’s gone.”

Hunk paused, one foot out the door, the other still on the other side of the frame, “..what?”

Lance sobbed, snapping Hunk out of his thoughts, “Lance, stay in your house. I’ll be right there.”

Of course, Lance hadn’t stayed in his house. Hunk had literally run into him on his way there. 

Hunk gathered the other twelve-year-old into his arms, rocking back and forth, trying to comfort him. He pulled him into Lance’s house where they collapsed onto the floor in the living room. He tried to whisper soothing words into the other’s ears but he wasn’t sure if Lance could hear him over his crying.

Lance wrapped his legs around Hunk’s waist and wrapped his arms around the other’s neck. His fingers gripped into the soft back of his jacket and he dug his head into Hunk’s shoulder. He started to hyperventilate to which Hunk finally spoke up and helped to level his breathing, letting his to breath in four, keep seven, and exhale eight. 

Sometime during the mess, Lance had managed to fall asleep, his chest’s fall even and his face void of any expressions, feat Hunk rarely saw. It was refreshing, to him, to see behind the mask that Lance kept up. Cupping his head in the nook of his arm and cradling his lower half, Hunk hoisted Lance up and gently laid him on the couch. He watched as Lance’s eyebrows creased and a frown adorned his face. Hunk reached up and smoothed the lines that found their way on Lance’s forehead. Hunk reached over him and pulled the throw blanket over Lance. He gave a small smile, one full of hurt and agonizing worry, “You’ll be okay, Lance.” He put a hand on Lance’s cheek, wiping away the tears that were yet to dry, “You’ll get through it.” He hesitated in pulling his hand away, “You are strong enough.”

“I believe in you.”

* * *

 

“Dad?” Lance asked warily, his nose twitching at the unfamiliar scent of his home, “Are you okay?” He walked forward toward his dad. It was the first time in weeks Lance had finally had the chance to see his father. 

The other had been slaving away at work, finding anything to distract himself from the death of his wife. The loss hit him hard as he realized how much he had depended on her. He’d spent the days in his office, surviving off of monsters, redbulls, and five-hour energies while at night he would whore himself away and sleep with the nearest consenting female(s). 

None of which Lance knew because of him being twelve and protected by his mom from the darkness outside. 

No one prepared him for a difficult family. One where he was the youngest, being born three years behind his sister, and was left behind to live with his parents until he could be shipped off to a boarding school of any sort. Not where his mother fell ill and was taken off of life support before his father could tell them that he had changed his mind. That the consent he had given was not what he actually wished for. 

So Lance walked. He drew forward in strides, unafraid of his father. The one who raised him. Thought him how to dribble a soccer ball. How to read and write, how to pay tips and other things that they didn’t teach him at school.

The man who loved him and him back.

He stopped at the figure. One that dared to have the nose Lance had inherited, the dark blue eye color opposed to the dewy hazel of his mother’s which never left the screen even as Lance hovered behind him. 

It turned to him.

No soft smile that could rival his love for the ocean. 

No joking wink that Lance had grown to love as his father passed small puns to him.

No “Hello” or “Hey, Lance! How was your day, my son?”

Instead, he greeted Death. Her long fingers grasping him and dragging him down to the bottom of his ocean of fears. Her lips drawing away his breath as she submerged him further under the surface. Her voice dark and scratchy, so much that Lance wanted to succumb to her call out of his own terror. She chocked him with her hands that cut wounds into his throat, rendering him speechless.

“What do you want.”

Lance marked this as the beginning of his breaking. 

* * *

 

Lance gripped the counter where his sink was. He stared at the fractured mirror as he scanned the swollen areas of his face. 

His bottom lip was busted and blood still dribbled out of the side of his mouth. He didn’t dare look at the abrasions that hid behind his thin layers of clothing. A small cut bled from his left cheek, a small reminder that his father never takes his ring off. 

He anathematized, throwing his bloody knuckles once more against the glass in front of him, shattering the image of himself. Wheezing, he knelt down to the tile, grabbing at one of the shards and pulled up his wrist. He stared up, striving to find a motive for living, before deeming it pointless. He pressed down. The pain causing his to let out a soundless sob. He dropped the shard, the pain spiking as he applied pressure to the wound in the attempt to find a way to diminish the pain.

Realizing his plan wasn’t working, Lance bungled around, trying frantically to get to his feet. He threw open the medicine cabinet, throwing open all of the caps and shoving the various pills down his throat. 

Just as Lance popped open the last pill on the floor he felt the bottle being thrown from his hands. The yelling was faded as everything around him grew further. Lance could, however, see the red of his blood covering the tiles of his bathroom or the faint sound of a faucet started in the bathtub. Lance remembers behind pulled into the tub. He could feel his mouth being pried open despite Lance’s constant fighting and biting down as large hands thrust their way down his throat, forcing Lance to throw up all of the pills he had digested just a few minutes prior. 

“Lance, what were you doing!” The body holding him screamed, shock finally wearing off. 

“Hunk?” Lance reached out to his friend who had already removed him from the soiled waters. 

The arms around him tightened, “Yeah, buddy it’s me. It’s Hunk.”

Lance put his hands on Hunk’s chest, trying to push Hunk away, “N-no. Why did you stop me?”

“Lance-”

Lance’s father emerged in the doorway, his eyes widened at the seem before him. He soaked in the image of the bloody and scared wrists of the one he called his son. The last ties to his wife, the son he’d neglected, on the floor in the arms of Lance’s childhood friend. He observed the red-stained glass surrounding the duo and the pill bottles that littered the floor. 

“I was so close, Hunk,” Lance whined, his voice slurred with every syllable. He ignored his father “I just wanna sleep, Hunk,” Lance held onto the name like an anchor, something that kept him from being pulled away, to keep him steady, “I just want to be done. No one cares-”

“I care-”

“I don’t care,” Lance corrected himself, his eyes droopy. He dropped his arm from around Hunk’s neck, ignoring the pained scream from the larger and the police that his father had called moments before barging through the doors of his home. “I just want to stop living.”

* * *

 

Lance woke up to the white walls of the hospital, the sound of a heart monitor filling the room. The window was open, letting the natural light from the sun shine down onto his bed. He smiled at the vases and bouquets of flowers around him. He was acutely aware of the hand on his own as he followed the arm to the body that it belongs to. 

He gave Hunk’s fingers a squeeze, eliciting a small grumble from the older and a small head shift. 

Lance smiled, the grin falling as he strained to sit up. His body must not have healed all the way yet due to the blossoming pain that plagued his body. 

His cursing was what Hunk woke up to, the sound confusing him at first before it dawned on him-

_Lance is awake._

Hunk flew up immediately at the thought, his eyes locking onto the blue ones of his best friend. 

With a small amount of gentleness, Hunk threw himself onto Lance, the blue boy wrapping his arms around his neck and laughing at the outburst.

“Never,” Hunk pulled away, glaring at Lance as he maintained eye contact through it all, “ever do that to me, ever again. You hear me, Lance? Never.”

Laughing, Lance nodded, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

* * *

 

The week Lance spent in the psychiatric ward of the hospital wasn’t as bad as he was expecting. 

The counselors were helpful, the people he was with were nice, and the food wasn’t all that terrible. They had card games every other day and on the days off, Lance would read. He read anything and everything from small little booklets to the entirety of The Chronicles of Narnia. Anything to keep his mind busy. 

The week after, however, was hell. 

His father wasn’t any nicer. 

In fact, he was furious. 

He swore at Lance, calling him pathetic. He refused to get Lance the help he needed, claiming that Lance was just trying for his attention. He beat the small Cuban to a small pulp of nothing on the floor. He would throw his meds at him, sneering different insults at varying degrees. 

Yet each time, Lance would fight back. 

But every time Hunk tried to get Lance to see a counselor, Lance would just shake his head, saying “everything's fine in the Lance mechanics!” or “I’m fine, Hunk. Drop it.”

Hunk cried at night for his friend, something he would never tell Lance in any of his years left of life. 

As long as Lance was okay, Hunk was okay too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: minor panic attack, mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm
> 
> Sorry, this chapter took so long. Writer's block came and bit me in the ass.

Lance was not okay.

 

After being released from the hospital and taken off of suicide watch, he found himself thinking. He thought about small things at first; what movie to see, what was for lunch, what kind of mask to use before going to bed. Things he used to think prior to everything. 

 

He also noticed things he didn’t before. Hunk’s hugs are softer than prior to everything but are more forceful with an underlying feeling of “I care.”

 

There was never a beer bottle in his parent’s room. His mother’s things that Lance didn’t take from in there still sat collecting dust on the dresser. 

 

The person who sat next to him in class doodled on their paper. Sometimes it was simple. Small flowers that covered the paper could become fully shaded images of people in his class. 

 

He was also permitted to sleep alone, though he seldom did. He tried to block out the voices that plagued him with headphones, using the music as an escape from the loudest ones. Their calls were all too true for Lance. He didn’t deserve the second chance given to him. He didn’t actually mean anything to anyone. Hunk was just pitying him and would leave the moment he discovered that Lance wasn’t recovering and instead was getting worse. 

 

It whispered to him that his father hadn’t bothered to clean out his father hadn’t bothered to clean out the bathroom cabinet and there was plenty of time to try again. This time he wouldn’t call anyone. He would do it at night when everyone was sleeping and the world was silent. 

 

It craved the familiar sting of a blade and the funny feeling of joy at seeing blood pouring down his arm. He’s been clean for the first time after rehab. Hunk started to check his arms and the disappointment on his face after seeing the marks made Lance’s chest hurt. So he reverted to pinching himself and pulling on his hair. 

 

He made sure his facade was stronger, he filled the holes with a one-way mirror. Every time someone fell for his act, it fractured. It hurt that people couldn’t see the true him but at the same time this is what he wanted. A person who everyone would like. The perfect person. The goofball. The silly one who everyone was friends with. The ball of sunshine who lit up the room the moment he stepped through the door. The person who his parents would be proud of. 

 

But that wasn’t him. 

 

He wasn’t a likable person. Hell, he couldn’t even like himself. Why would he think that other people liked him? He wasn’t the perfect person. His jokes were coverups- hiding something far more sinister behind them. His smiles were all fakes, nothing was real anymore. His parents were gone. One dead and the other a shadow of what was left. 

 

Lance didn’t know how to live anymore.

 

-

 

“Lance, you need to eat something.” Hunk pushed something towards the 12-year-old. He watched Lance sink into his jacket more so than usual. Looking down at the untouched meal, he sighed. 

 

“Listen, buddy. I know it’s a lot. The whole ‘being in space thing’ isn’t for everyone and it’s definitely not your thing right now, but if something’s bothering you please tell me?” 

 

Lance moved his gaze from the plate to his lap, his hair falling around his face more than it already did. He didn’t say anything nor did he do anything. He hasn’t moved a single inch since Shiro places him on the chair and it didn’t look like he was moving anytime soon. 

 

“We need to get him back to how he was and quick,” a voice from outside spoke out. Hunk looked worriedly at the boy. 

 

The door swung open revealing Pidge, Shiro, and the Alteans. Pidge was noticeably frustrated, their hands pulling at their hair and glasses crooked. Shiro’s arms were crossed, hugging himself. Allura has one arm in a tight grip while Corran sulked behind her. 

 

“That’s the intent, Princess,” Shiro muttered, his voice low in annoyance. 

 

“Well, hurry up!” 

 

“I’m trying, Allura!” Pidge cried out, their voice cracking at the end. They threw their arms up, hands balling into fists. 

 

“Try harder!” Allura replied with just as much vigor. “Zarkon isn’t going to wait for us to figure it all out.” 

 

“Is Zarkon your only priority?” Pidge stepped forward into Allura. “Lance is sick with something that for all we know is incurable. It’s a matter of time before he just disappears! He’s dying, Allura!” 

 

“And what,” Allura shoves a finger into Pidge’s chest. Keith moved from his place beside Hunk to get himself between the two, “exactly are we going to tell people? ‘Sorry, we can’t help you right now. Half the team is losing their minds and one is a suicidal twelve-year-old who won’t say anything!” 

 

“Princess!” Corran apprehended her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, “Not now.” 

 

Hunk bit his lip, looking at Lance from the corner of his eye, then back to the group. “Guys-“ 

 

“Maybe if you weren’t such a stuck up asshole then we would have cured him by now!” 

 

“Guys-“ 

 

“Are you blaming me?” Allura screeched, her face scrunched up and she pushed Pidge back. 

 

Pidge caught themselves a little late, falling back onto their ass but catching themselves on their elbows. Their eyes were blown wide, cheeks a bright pink, and their mouth opens in wordless disbelief. 

 

Keith intervened, stepping in between the two. “Stop it! Both of you.” 

 

“Lance!” 

 

Everyone turned to the owner of the voice. 

 

Hunk was hunched over Lance, his hands hovering uselessly over the smaller body. 

 

Lance was on his knees near the door. He tried to escape the screaming but it was all too much. The loud noises reminded him of nights when his father wasn’t drunk enough to hit him but out of it enough not to have any filters. The insensitive words that poured out of the old man’s lips plagued his mind. 

 

He couldn’t breathe, the air around him was suffocating him. He clawed at his throat, nails digging into skin enough to leave marks but not enough to draw blood. He gasped desperately for oxygen, coughing when he couldn’t. The world spun around his head, feeling light-headed and queasy. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the spinning but instead, he felt himself collapse into a warm body.

 

“Hey, buddy.” Hunk. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” Lance tried to focus on what the other was trying to stay but he found it difficult. The sound of blood rushing through his brains obscured Hunk’s words making them barely comprehensible. 

 

“Breathe, bud, breathe,” he could hear Hunk whispering into his ear. “Take it slow. Count with me?” He watched Lance nod. “Okay. One.”

 

Lance coughed, unable to form words. 

 

“Two.”

 

“T-Two,” Lance heaved after. 

 

“Three,” Hunk wrapped his arm around Lance’s back, pulling him into a soft hug. 

 

Lance dug his fingers into the fabric of Hunk’s jacket, clinging on to them as if they were a lifeline. “Three..”

 

“There we go buddy,” Hunk praised. His other arm lifted so that he could rub Lance’s back from his place curled up between Hunk’s legs. “Four.” 

 

Lance shook his head. He couldn’t do it. He opened his mouth but choked on his words. He sobbed against Hunk’s chest. 

 

“C’mon, Lance. You can do it. Just breathe.” 

 

“No mas, por favor,” Lance begged. 

 

“Lance, can you hear me?” Hunk frowned at the Spanish coming out of Lance’s mouth. He took French instead of Spanish but from what he was able to gather from Lance's frequent screeching it wasn’t a good thing. 

 

Trembling, the younger nodded. “Yeah,” his voice cracked halfway through. Lance flinched as a hand met his shoulder; a soft, comforting touch that helped him tether himself to reality. He looked up at Shiro. 

 

Shiro smiled down at Lance, “It’s okay.” He looked over at Hunk. “Can you take him to his room? One of us will drop by with stuff for him to take later on.”

 

Sticking out an aiding hand, Hunk helped Lance up, opting to wrap one arm around Lance’s waist and pulling Lance’s arm around his neck, “C’mon, buddy. Let’s get you to bed.”

 

Lance stumbled over his first few steps, his body somewhat numb to movement. He leaned heavily and relied mostly on Hunk’s support to reach his bedroom. 

 

Hunk reached for the panel, allowing it to scan over him and grant access to Lance’s room. He hauled Lance in before gently resting him on the bed. He pulled the blankets so that it covered Lance. 

 

He glanced at Lance, then to the floor, back to Lance, and once again to the floor. Lance hadn’t said a word this entire trip and the silence was starting to make Hunk anxious. 

 

“Hunk,” Lance called out as if sensing Hunk’s discomfort, “...Thank you. For everything.”

 

Hunk frowned, “Don’t say goodbye yet, Pidge is-”

Lance put up a hand to stop him. He pulled himself up so that he was resting against the headboard. “I can’t really remember my time- my future me’s time?- in space but I can remember a few things. Like you’re cooking and uh, Corran’s cooking. I can remember the team having to drag Pidge away from her electronics to get her to sleep and I can remember Shiro and Allura discussing plans at the table and scolding them for it. Also, did Keith, like, cradle me? at some point?”

 

Hunk grinned, “Yeah, yeah he did.” Hunk pulled at his thumbs, “Lance, if-” Hunk inhaled till his lungs couldn’t take anymore, “when-” he corrected, “ we find a cure, if you remember any of this, please come to me when you’re having a day. Please?”

 

Lance looked at Hunk, blue eyes drowning every sight he saw. “I will Hunk.”

 

“Promise? Hunk tentatively raised his eyes to meet Lance’s own. Lance gave a reassuring smile.

 

“Promise.”


End file.
